Sadism of the Devil
by blu3crush
Summary: Sara is having a tough time after her DUI. She started her counselling at Desert Palm and Dr. Vincent Lurie saw her and thought God sent her to him. (Re-writing in progress. - Ratings varied from T - M).
1. Prologue

**Sadism of the Devil**

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, or any characters CBS and CSI writers had created.

I have decided to re-write this story. I really disliked how I wrote my initial idea. I think I screwed it up badly.

So, I hope you enjoy this. I guessed you should be able to guess who this person is.

This story will deal with dark materials – such as rape, torture and self-mutilation. Thus, the T rating. I will up it to M if the contents of subsequent chapters get a little heavy or dark.

If you're interested to read what I wrote initially, you can hop over to blu3crush . wordpress . com. (Just, remove the spacing in between.)

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

He had waited for this day for very long. Ever since, he first saw her walking out of the doctor's office, he knew he had to have her. She looked just like her. She had her eyes, thin lips and nose.

He tugged her stray hairs behind her ear. His fingers caressed the outline of her face, stopping just below her chin and lifted her head. He pressed his lips on hers and his tongue snaked into her mouth.

Her taste was different but it was sweeter, like honey nectar. He breathed her scent in deeply and crinkled his nose. He hated lavender scent. He preferred fruity-scent shower gel. He took note of what he should buy in the Walmart later.

He reached for the pair of sharp scissors on the bedside cabinet. He sliced through her tank top and her white cotton bra mercilessly. She did not need any clothing in this room.

The cloth fell apart, revealing her creamy skin. He stroked the exposed skin and marveled how smooth it was. He rubbed the peaks of her breasts vigorously and watched them turned taut.

He trailed a path of kisses from the valley of her breasts to her navel.

Her pair of dark blue jeans was an obstruction. He unbuckled her belt and freed it from the loops. He unfastened the button of her jeans and pulling the zipper down, he yanked the jeans off her long legs.

He loved how she wore matching underwear. The white cotton panties were slightly stained by her arousal. He reached under the sides of her panties and ripped it apart. Her short brown curls glistening under the harsh white lights he installed. He dipped two fingers into her core and pulled it out when he felt her moisture had fully coated his finger.

He breathed in her scent. Musky but light. He placed his finger into his mouth and sucked it. His eyes went glaze after tasting her essence. He wanted more but he had to wait. He could not risk her waking up. He was not trained in martial arts or self-defense but she was. He did not want to take a chance at all. He knew that when she woke up, her whole body would be weak but there might be a possibility that she would fight for her life. Adrenaline rush did wonders.

He reached for the purple silk sash he had tied to the bedposts earlier on and wound them around her wrists. He tightened the bonds and moved to her legs. He spread her legs wide and looped the silk sash around her ankles.

When he was satisfied with his work, he crawled off the bed and padded towards the bathroom. He shed his clothing – his branded coat, tailor-made dress shirt and long fitted pants lay rumpled on the tiled flooring.

He moved into the shower and let the hot water washed away his fatigue.

He could finally hold her in his arms again. This time, he would never let go. He would never allow any guys near her. She was his, solely his.

He reached for the knob and turned the water off. Wrapping a blue terry towel around his waist, he stepped out of the shower area. He wiped the steam off the mirror and smiled at his reflection.

He still looked good for a fifty years old man. He flexed his arms. His arms muscles bulged. He almost wanted to kiss his reflection but decided it was stupid to do that.

Opening the bathroom cabinet, he reached for the small bottle of medicine.

Everything was peachy for him, except for his sexual performance. It was a big blow to his ego. He ejaculated prematurely and was unable to sustain long.

He hated how she rolled her eyes and pushed him off. She scoffed, and dipped her fingers into her intimate area, stimulating herself. She laughed. He could never forget her piercing, insulting laugh. When she got herself off, she stalked off to her bathroom to shower, leaving him in her room humiliated.

He snapped when she found someone new. She hooked up with a young, promising and blonde doctor.

He had slashed her throat in her bathroom. He dismembered the blondie in the same bathroom.

He sneered. They were all dead now. They could not laugh at his performance any more.

He popped the little blue pill into his mouth and swallowed. He waited for a while and watched his manhood sprang into life.

Walking back to the room, he grinned when he heard some groaning.

She had a feisty character. She struggled against her bonds weakly.

The morphine he had injected into her body had not wane off completely yet.

He pulled off his towel, letting it dropped onto the floor and walked to her bedside.

Her eyes registered shock but she did not show it. She just glared at him angrily. She shouted vulgarities.

"Shout all you want. I have sound-proofed this whole room." He climbed onto the bed and covered her body with his.

"Get off," she screamed helplessly and wriggled under him. She hated how close his manhood was to her intimate area.

"You will like this," he bit her nipple hard, not enough to draw blood but enough to inflict pains.

She wailed, and her tears pouring out from her eyes. No one had touched her this way since that betrayal.

She could feel him prying her folds open and inserted two fingers in.

"Come for me, baby," he screamed, as he plunged his fingers in and out hardly. She closed her eyes, as she knew what was going to happen next. She shrieked painfully when he entered her. He could no longer wait for her to come. He had to release.

She stopped fighting and lay there impassively, waiting for him to finish.

He did after several long minutes, which felt like an eternity to her. She felt him shooting his warm load into her.

He collapsed on top of her, keeping his manhood in her.

"We'll be doing this again later," he shoved his tongue into her mouth.

"My lovely Debbie," he rolled off her and watched her beautiful face. He shook his head.

"No, it should be my lovely Sara."

* * *

I hope you will like it. :D

Please leave me a comment or send me a PM. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Sadism of the Devil

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, or any characters CBS and CSI writers had created.

I started this story to be post Bloodlines (Season 04, E23) which aired on 20 May 2004. Grissom went over to the police department and brought Sara home. I set that date to be 25 May 2004.

Is anyone reading this story? When I check the stats, there are views but it somehow lack response.

Please let me know if you're reading! Be it through a review or PM (really appreciate for spending the time to do it). Thanks. I hope you like the revamp so far!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

25 May 2004

Today was one of the worst days of Sara Sidle's life. Sara was utterly humiliated. She had never bowed her head so low before but today was her first.

A traffic cop pulled her over before she made a turn to the highway. When he leaned in, asking for identification, he saw the beer bottle she was holding in a hand. She took the breath analyzer test and her blood alcohol level was way over the legal limit.

She had been sitting in the waiting room, waiting for her supervisor, Gil Grissom, to pick her up. The traffic cop told her they decided not to book her and cut her break because she was working for the legal department.

The wait had been excruciating. She did not know how Grissom would think of her.

Grissom pointed out blankly to her that the reason why he did not recommend her position was he thought that she was too emotional and most importantly, Nick did not care about this promotion.

She had always craved for Grissom's attention, in both professional and personal capacity.

Now she had both. As a friend and mentor, Grissom would want to know why she allowed herself to spiral out of control. As her supervisor, he had to know why she drove under influence.

She felt a lump caught in her throat when she heard the familiar footsteps approaching.

"Well, thank you. I appreciate the courtesy." Grissom said finally, after listening to what the traffic cop had offered.

She wanted to find a hole and bury her head in. She did not want to face Grissom now.

Grissom took the seat beside her and sat down. He placed his palms on hers. His warm permeated to her heart.

"Come on. I'll take you home."

She snapped out and saw concerns in his eyes.

She had thought he would be asking questions and blame her. But, he did not. He just held her hands gently and offered to drive her home.

The entire journey home was in suffocating silence.

Sara wept silently. Her tears slid down without Grissom noticing.

"Why didn't you blame me?" Sara choked, turned to face Grissom.

"It's not your fault," Grissom gripped the steering wheel tighter. His knuckles turned white.

"Then whose fault it is," Sara asked, unable to believe what Grissom just said. It was totally her fault. She should not have drink. But alcohol numbed her. It brought sleep and peace.

"Mine," Grissom sighed dejectedly.

"Yes, it's yours," Sara shrugged and turned her attention back to the passing scenery. It was easier to blame Grissom. One of the reasons why she turned to alcohol for consolation was Grissom. For the past year, he had kept her at an arm length and whenever he felt she was drifting away, he would whirl her back and shower her with some attention to keep her from drifting apart.

He pulled into her parking lot and killed the engine.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked.

"No, I just want to be alone." Sara answered wistfully.

Grissom nodded, and unlocked the SUV's locks.

"Sara," he called her before she hopped off the SUV. "Take care."

"I will." Sara replied. She walked off without a second glance.

Grissom's heart stung when he saw how frail Sara had become. He realized he had not been paying attention to Sara. He kept her around him with a thin thread. He did not acknowledge her works as much as other. He knew how hard she tried to do well in front of him, always eagerly waiting for his compliments. He was stingy with his compliments for her. He just did not want anyone to gossip about them.

He sighed sadly and started the engine. He glanced up to Sara's windows before reversing out of the parking lot. He hoped that she would not break apart.

* * *

28 May 2004

It was Sara's first PEAP session at Desert Palm Hospital.

Grissom offered to accompany her but she firmly rejected. She did not want to deal with him after a counseling session. She knew that counseling would be draining. She had her fair share of counseling sessions after her mother killed her father.

Counselors always asked the same set of questions and did the same caring actions. They did not ask questions directly but kept on inferring and asking unrelated questions. They, however, would always get what they wanted. They always managed to pry into her innermost thoughts.

Grissom told her he wanted to help and would not allow her to refute. His clear blue eyes told her he would not back down. And she relented eventually. She never had been able to deny him of any favor. They compromised in the end. Grissom would drive her to Desert Palm and leave after she bade him goodbye.

She watched Grissom drove away and heaved a relief sigh. Grissom had been protecting her since that incident. He stood up against Conrad when he wanted to suspend her without pay for one month. He never breathed a word to anyone regarding her incident.

He assigned her to work cases with him. He wanted to keep a lookout for her, which, she appreciated a lot.

She walked into the building ever slowly, dreading every step.

Perhaps she should have Grissom to accompany her to the counselor's office. But, she knew this was a journey she had to walk alone.

* * *

Dr. Vincent Lurie walked along the corridor aimlessly. Everyone avoided him. They scooted away when he was nearby.

The rumors about him killing Debbie Marlin and Michael Clark went rife after the police department invited him over for an interview.

He did not command respect as he did before. His co-workers treated him like plague. If they had to work for him, he could see the contempt and reluctant.

"Dr. Lurie, good afternoon," a cheerful voice greeted him.

He stopped abruptly and stared at the young woman standing in front of him.

She smiled widely and bowed a little before walking off.

Lurie recognized her as freshly hired nurse. He gave some welcome talks to new doctors and nurses. She came forward to talk to him when they were having refreshments. She flirted, and told him that it would be good if they could work together in any surgery. He knew that she was just making use of him.

He saw some shadows of Debbie in her. The way she flipped her hairs and letting her hand brushed past his arms reminded him of Debbie.

Truth be told, he missed Debbie.

Debbie made him feel alive when they first got together.

She encouraged and rejuvenated him. She kept a serious face the whole time when he first confessed about his erectile dysfunctional. She bought him Viagra and told him men his age should not be ashamed of taking pills to enhance their sexual performance.

The little blue pills did wonders. They had some good times before Michael came into the picture.

She became cold and distant.

She refused to go through any foreplay with him. She used to perform oral sex on him to get him into the mood but she refused him flatly and sneered at him for his inability. Their relationship went downhill when he found out she was sleeping with Michael.

He gave her a chance for explanation but she just laughed it off and broke up with him.

He snapped. He thought she would come back to him. After all, he was the head of surgery.

No one had humiliated him as she did. He killed her. He slashed her throat and watched the blood seeped onto the cold hard tiles, forming a huge puddle. He watched how her life ebbed away quickly. His method of killing her was quick and efficient. She would almost feel no pains.

It was different when it came to Michael. He wanted him to suffer every pain. He disemboweled and dissected him. He did not even want to him to die with a full body.

He shut his eyes, savoring the flashing images of Michael and Debbie's dead, lifeless body.

He enjoyed reminiscing his killing. It gave him a sense of satisfaction.

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards eerily. He looked at the signage in front of him and realized he was the psychiatrist level. Perhaps he needed a therapist.

Then he saw her exiting a psychiatrist office.

Paralyzed with shocks, he found himself rooted to the ground.

Debbie was alive. It could not be. He had killed Debbie a few months ago. He watched how she died.

His breath caught in his throat as she walked past him with her head bowed low.

"Sara!" her psychiatrist shouted. She spun around quickly and gave a wry smile.

"Please remember that we will be having a session next week," her psychiatrists reminded.

Sara rolled her eyes dramatically and nodded.

"I will not forget because if I miss a session, Conrad will just fire me." Sara muttered her breath. She did not notice Vincent Lurie who was standing at the far end of the corridor. She just wanted to leave this place as fast as she could.

Hospital was nothing but a painful reminder of her tormented childhood.

"Sara – what a beautiful name," Vincent's mouth twitched into what resembled a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sadism of the Devil**

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, or any characters CBS and CSI writers had created.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

18 June 2004

Every Friday was Sara's mandated PEAP counseling session. Today, it was Sara's fourth session with her PEAP counselor. For these couple of weeks, Grissom had driven her to the hospital. It was Grissom's arrangement and he did not give her any chances to reject. He told her he wanted to help and she readily allowed him to fuss over her.

Having someone to fuss over her was perhaps what she needed. She was too independent. That was her ex-boyfriends' top reason for breaking up. She also wanted to be the damsel in distress but what she went through in her childhood did not let her to accept that weak girl role. She wanted to be weak sometimes, letting someone to take care of her and cry when it hurt. But, she just could not. It was built within her to be strong and not turn to anyone for advice or solace.

That was why she turned to the clear amber liquid for comfort. It was her only consolation. At least, alcohol would not judge or mock her. Beer, Bourbon, Scotch and even Absthine were her comrades. They accompanied her to bed, letting her sleep and forgetting about all the pains Grissom brought.

"Sara," Grissom called gently, not wanting to startle her. She seemed so deep in her thoughts.

She jumped a little, and sighed when she saw they were outside the hospital foyer.

"How's everything?" Grissom asked, moving his hands from the steering wheel to his laps. He had wanted to place them on Sara's hands but decided against it. It was inappropriate and he did not want to send any wrong signals to Sara.

Sara looked straight into his clear cerulean eyes and smiled a little. "The counseling sessions are fine, so far."

"I'm not just asking about your counseling sessions. How're you, in general? Are you coping?" Grissom did not want to sound too inquisitive but he wanted to know how she was holding up so far. He had been delaying this much-needed conversation because he was not a master at heart-to-heart discussion.

"Peachy," Sara laughed, sarcastically. How could he not know? Everything was a mess for her. She was trying to pick up the bits and pieces of her life.

"Sara," Grissom frowned. "Everything is fine, Grissom," Sara ensured. She breathed in a puff of air and her chest swelled. "I am fine!" She faked her enthusiasm and cheerfulness.

Grissom shook his head gently, refusing to believe her words. "Sara –"

Before he could continue, she practically jumped out of his SUV to avoid any further discussion. Meeting with her counselor seemed more endearing than having a heartfelt talk with Grissom. It was too awkward and weird.

* * *

Sara fascinated Lurie.

Everything about Sara intrigued him.

Sara was his Debbie but smarter and more mature. She was able to match him intellectually. She graduated from Harvard and Berkeley with great honors. He had downloaded her dissertations to read, and in awed by her brilliance. When she wrote her papers, she was much younger than her peers were but that did not stop her from writing a great argument.

Sara was his perfect match.

She might not understand it now but eventually she would when she meet him.

He also paid a private investigator to dig up more about Sara's past. He knew that she was working as a CSI and under Gil Grissom. What Gil Grissom had told him before he walked out of the interrogation room embedded in his mind.

Gil Grissom told him he had lost everything. He would have agreed before Sara appeared.

The game had changed for him. Not all was lost. God sent Sara his way.

His fingers tapped a few keys on his laptop and a video stream was flashed up to his screen. It was almost time for Sara's counseling session. He had paid a cleaner to place a hidden camera in her counselor's office when he learnt about her compulsory sessions. He needed and wanted to learn more about Sara.

He disapproved how she dressed today. Her leather jacket did nothing to accentuate her womanly curves. When they got together, he would revamp her wardrobe. She would look perfect in the body-hugging little black dress.

He reached for the bottle of lotion at the far end of his table. He fumbled with the zip of his pants, pushed his underwear to a side, and slid his hands up and down his shaft.

He loved whacking off to Sara's melodious voice.

He had mentally disrobed her and she was wearing nothing but a seen through lace teddy. She swayed her body to the background music. She moved closer and kneelt before him.

She took his manhood in her nimble hands and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He shuddered. A seductive, naughty smile spread across her face. She winked before enveloping his manhood entirely into her mouth.

He groaned.

His hands were moving up and down his erection furiously as he conjured more steamy images of Sara and him.

A moan escaped his mouth when he felt a wad of sticky substance on his hands. He slid down a little and took a few quick breaths.

He did not know why he could have an erection when he masturbated but not when he was actually having sex.

He tucked his flaccid manhood into his underwear and zipped up his pants.

He needed a plan to make Sara his. For now, he was satisfied with just watching her and masturbated.

But he knew, eventually, he wanted more of her.

* * *

Grissom drove aimlessly after he dropped Sara at Desert Palm. He did not know where he was heading until he saw the familiar, Victorian styled mansion appeared before him. He had driven himself to Heather Kessler's Dominion.

He knew the reason why he had absentmindedly driven himself here.

He needed to talk to someone and Heather was his best choice. Heather understood him.

But, things had been awkward for them since he called Brass to bring her in for a murder investigations. It would be less tricky if they had not spent the night before together.

He tried calling after she left the police department but gave up after a few times of being routed to her voicemail.

He perched his head on the steering wheel and gazed at the mansion forlornly.

"Grissom," a less than cordial voice snapped Grissom out of his reveries.

Grissom shifted uneasily and rolled his window down, "Heather."

"Why are you here?" There was an angry edge in Heather's voice.

"I needed to talk," Grissom answered, his shoulders slumped.

The lines between Heather's eyes creased as she gave Grissom an once-over.

"You looked tired," she finally said.

"I am," Grissom covered his eyes with his palms.

"Come on in," Heather gestured for Grissom to follow her.

She brought him to the patio where they shared a cup of tea before he had her arrested. She offered him a cup of Earl Grey, which, he accepted gratefully. He toyed with the teacup in his fingers.

Heather sipped her tea gracefully and waited Grissom to speak first.

"She," he paused, shifted and poised himself before continuing. "She is special to me. It hurts so much when I saw her spinning out of control. I want to help her but I don't know how. I am a smart man but when it comes to her, I am like an idiot. I can only watch her plunging into the abyss."

"Grissom," Heather placed her cup of tea on the table, stood up and walked towards him.

"Do you love her?" she asked simply.

He thought back how he poured his heart out a murderer, Dr. Vincent Lurie. He wanted to return Sara's feelings too but he could not sacrifice his painstakingly built career for her.

He nodded. "I think I am."

"Then what is stopping you?"

"She may not worth it." He answered, suddenly ashamed of his cowardice.

* * *

Let me know how this chapter is, thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Sadism of the Devil**

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, or any characters CBS and CSI writers had created.

_This is a short bridging chapter. I hope you will like it, and do leave me a comment. Thanks!_

* * *

**Chapter 4 **

18 June 2004

"I truly believe if you have any doubts, the person is definitely never worth it." Heather said softly, and wrapped her thin arms across Grissom's shoulders.

"Grissom, and I know you. You are unable to love anyone wholeheartedly. You may think you love her but what you are doing now may potentially hurt her in the worst way possible. You are doubtful about yourself. How could you possibly love her if you doubt yourself?" Heather leaned in closer, and whispered into his ear.

Grissom shrugged Heather off, and turned to face her. The brilliant blue of his eyes dulled and his face registered shock at how much Heather understood him and her ability of seeing through his mask.

As much as he did not want to acknowledge what Heather just said but he could not. Heather was right about his incapability of loving someone wholeheartedly. He had a few relationships throughout his life and they always ended up failing. The reasons why it failed were simple. He put them behind work and family. If he received an out of town assignment, he would just leave without telling them. He did not feel love and companionship were important. Building up his career and credibility were far more important. He did not feel any sadness when they left.

But Sara was different from any women he had dated. She was the only one who managed to send a flutter to his heart when he first saw her. He was unable to deny that he was attracted to her. The aura of confidence that surrounded made her stood out.

He knew he liked Sara but he did not know if he really loved her. He did not know if he could hold his career at stake to begin a relationship with her. He did not want to get hurt too. Sara was a dangerous choice for him. She was so young and she could just leave him when someone younger, handsomer and stronger came by.

He felt his heart wrenched when there was a possibility of Sara leaving him for buff Nick or gorgeous Greg. He saw how Sara flirted with them and how she laughed when they were with her.

He just could not take up this risk.

He felt the migraine he had been keeping at bay began to creep to the back of his head. The merciless poundings started. He felt his neck muscles turned taut. He frowned, and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to keep the pain away. He cupped his head with his hands and groaned.

"Grissom," Heather caressed the outline of his jaw with the pad of her fingers gently and slowly. "Are you having a headache?"

He opened one of his eyes slowly and shut it immediately when the harsh afternoon sunrays flooded in. "Yes," he whimpered. He just felt weak, tired and helpless. He felt like he was a child who lost sight of his mother in the crowded carnival. He deeply in needed of someone to comfort him and tell him everything will be all right.

Heather pulled his head near to her chest, and stroked his hairs tenderly. "Come on, you need a sleep."

Grissom burrowed his head closer and wrapped his arms across Heather's slim waist.

"Stay with me?" he asked shamelessly. Heather nodded, unable to deny Grissom's request.

To her, Grissom was her equivalent and seeing him so lost broke her heart.

"Come, let's go to my room and lie down." She gently tugged him free and held his hands firmly in hers.

She led him up the stairs, and to her room at the end of the hallway. She instructed him to take off his clothing and shoes. When he was down to his boxer, she guided him to her huge 4-posters bed. She stripped off her dress and slipped into the bed with Grissom.

She cradled his head in her ample chest and sang a song. His hands wandered up and down the smooth curve of her body and started to drift off to a sleep.

* * *

20 June 2004

"Fifty, sir," the scantily clad woman smiled and winked at Lurie who had just pulled over his car. Lurie nodded and unlocked his car, signalling for her to hop into his car. Overjoyed, the woman rushed to the other side of the car, yanked the door open and jumped in.

Lurie wrinkled his nose when the overpowering, cheap perfume of the hooker filled his car. "Roll down the window," he instructed, as the engine roared into life.

The woman shrugged and did as instructed. She did not want to offend her customer and she relished the feel of real leather against her skin. "Where are we going?" she asked, hoping that he would bring her to a decent place for sex. Her customers, as of lately, had been doing her in the dark alley or the cheap motel.

"My place," he smirked and pushed a bottle of water to her. She accepted it gleefully, unbelievable of her luck tonight. "Drink it," he said.

"Thanks, you're really a gentleman," she slurred. "My name's Candy."

Lurie just smiled and nodded.

"Any extra will be chargeable," she said, in between sips of water. "Of course," Lurie agreed readily.

Candy shook her head, and blinked her eyes furiously. She felt her world was spinning. The dark spots dotted her vision. She felt her limbs turned limp and feeble.

"We're going to have so much fun tonight," Lurie said just before darkness claimed Candy.

Lurie felt that if he wanted to take Sara into his custody and claim her as his own. He needed practise. He needed to know how a woman would react when she was in danger and if his drugs concoction was working. He needed to test his concoction on different women before using it on his beloved Sara.

Testing his experiments on a hooker first would not raise any alarms. Nobody cared for hookers.

* * *

I guess, I will leave the imagination of what happened between Heather and Grissom to you. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Sadism of the Devil**

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI, or any characters CBS and CSI writers had created.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

25 June 2004

Grissom hesitated for a long while before picking up his cell phone and dialled the familiar numbers. He had long committed both Sara's cell and landline number in his memories. He was good at memorizing those tedious, long and tongue twisting bug names but he was never good at remembering people's numbers or birthdays. He was just not a people's person but Sara managed to change that part of him.

He unknowingly started to notice small details about Sara after she scared him, telling him she wanted a change, wanting to leave Las Vegas. He knew she took her coffee with loads of sugar and she was a vegetarian but she occasionally ate sea bass. She preferred her hairs to be straight. Her hairs curled after she took a shower. He had seen those wet curls before after she walked out of the shower room, attempting to comb them straight.

When she smiled, there was a prominent gap in between her two front teeth. He was surprised that she seemed so at ease with it. It did not bother her. Most women would try everything to mend that gap. Sara also had a small flower tattoo on her ankle, which he saw when she wore her white buttoned-up blouse and baby blue skirt. She wore that ensemble when she needed to attend court hearings.

Sara really did change him. No one, not even Terri Miller, had evoked such stirrings in his heart. But, it was also dangerous for him to be so obsessed with her. He could hurt her like what Heather had said. He already did. He had pushed her to be an alcoholic.

He should really keep a distance and not send any wrong signals. Heather made him understood that he was unable to give what Sara wanted and he should never give her hopes.

Perhaps it was better for him to stop caring.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly while waiting for the phone to be connected.

"Hey Grissom," Sara said, "Give me another 5 minutes. I need to take the trash out."

His heart sank when she thought he was going to send her to the hospital. For the past few weeks, he had insisted in sending Sara to the hospital for her counselling sessions. He wanted her to he was supporting her when she underwent therapies.

"I'm really sorry. It's just that today, I woke up late. Last night case was a disaster! I did not get much sleep at all," She rambled, breathlessly.

"Sara," he interrupted.

"Yeah?"

He took in a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I am caught up at work. You have to go to the hospital yourself. I'm sorry."

He heard she dropped the bag of trash onto the floor with a loud clang.

"Sara."

No response.

"Sara," he called again. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am fine. I think it's better this way too. You can't babysit me all the time. Besides, I know how to drive to the hospital. I have wanted to tell you this for the past few weeks. I'm an adult who is perfectly able to take care of myself." She rattled on, without giving him a chance to intercept.

"Bye Grissom." She hung up before he had the chance to change his mind.

He sighed and placed his cell phone into the safety of his pocket. He wanted to change his mind when he heard the disappointment in her voice. But, she did not allow him to do that.

Perhaps this arrangement was better. Like what she had stated, he could not babysit her all the time.

* * *

Sara struggled to put on her strongest front when she stepped out of her counsellor's office. She waved her counsellor goodbye with a smile plastered on her face. After the door closed, her shoulders drooped and she clenched her fists tightly.

Today had been one of the worst sessions.

They talked about her family and her childhood.

She had never felt so vulnerable before. She felt attacked by her counsellor who refused to move on to another topic. She pried her way in to her deepest, darkest secrets.

Dropping herself onto the nearest bench weakly, she quivered as she remembered the questions her counsellor had asked.

"Have your father ever violated you?"

"No." she replied meekly. Technically, the answer was no. Her father had never touched her physically. But he watched her showered. He would lean against the doorframe and watch her taking off her clothes and stepping into the shower area. She remembered him instructing her to rub her private area and pinch her nipples. He had wanted her to insert her fingers into her private area and she refused.

He had taken the wooden paddle that he kept behind the closet to hit her when she refused. The blows were harsh and he turned the knob to the hottest point and sprayed the jets of waters on her.

She screamed, kicked, fought and cried but he did not hesitate for a moment. He just kept his abuse going.

When she almost blacked out, he stopped and delivered a few swift kicks to her stomach.

She curled up into foetal position and wept silently. Her whole body ached. Her skins burned. She did not even have the strength to switch off the water. She just had to wait for the hot water to run out or her brother to save her.

"Bitch," he spat before leaving the small confined space.

She always wondered why her mother never rescued her.

Then it dawned on her that her mother was never a strong woman to begin with. She had married her father when she was eighteen and had suffered long-term abuse. She thought that it was normal for her husband to behave in this manner.

She did not see why she should share all these nuggets of her tumultuous childhood with her counsellor.

"I see," her counsellor scribbled a few lines on her yellow legal pad and tapped her pen on her chin.

"Can we skip the topic about my family?" she asked, sighing.

"Tell me more about your father," her counsellor refused to back down. Sara stared at her counsellor, exasperated.

"There's nothing I can tell you about him. My mind shut off when he died."

It was partially true. Parts of her father died when her mother killed him in front of her. The blood was everywhere. The smell made her nauseous.

"Sara, we can't move on if you keep guarding about your family."

"Is this related to my DUI?" Sara asked, defiantly. She did not know how sharing about her family would help her DUI counselling.

"No. But I want to know why you're so angry." Her counsellor put down her legal pad and folded her arms across her chest.

"Do you want to know why?" Sara challenged.

"Yes. I need to, that's my job."

Sara clenched her jaws tightly and breathed in angrily.

"It's because Grissom. I left my hometown for him. I started a new life in Las Vegas for him. I loved him and he cannot reciprocate. He said I wasn't worth it. We obviously had chemistry but he just did not want to acknowledge it. He pushed me away. He kept me at his arm length. I felt I am his puppet. One pull, I am at his yielding. He was the reason why I became dependent on alcohol. It numbed me. It allowed me to sleep. Do you know before turning to alcohol, I was unable to sleep. My highest record was 72 hours. 3 straight days. I could just lie on the bed and my mind refused to take a break. I drink and he did not notice. Brass did and warned me. Grissom did nothing. He acted like everything is fine. Yes, in his own damn world." Sara cried wretchedly.

"I am just tired," Sara hiccupped and sniffled loudly.

"Sara," her counsellor shocked by Sara's sudden breakdown. She reached out for a box of tissues and passed it to her.

"Perhaps, we should stop for today. You can stay here until you calmed down."

Sara nodded, and shifted to the far end of the couch. She pulled her legs up and tugged them under her chin. She rocked herself gently, trying to calm down.

"I think you should talk to Grissom." Her counsellor suggested softly.

* * *

_How do you think about this chapter? Grissom's starting to withdraw. Let me know how you feel? Thanks!_

_delita0204: Hi. Grissom, in my opinion, is somehow a person who draws the wrong boundaries. He felt it was okay to visit Heather's dominion, perhaps she was never directly involved in any cases and she attracted him. While Sara, he had to keep a distance. She was his subordinate and he handpicked her to work in Las Vegas. If he was too close, there bound to be rumours. I hope you will not hate him. :-)_


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